


Dresses

by hopeful_romantic94



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Reminiscing, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeful_romantic94/pseuds/hopeful_romantic94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from 5x21 “Last Rites”</p>
<p>Emma realizes that dresses remind her of Killian as she looks in her closet and reflects back on their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dresses

Two dresses existed in Emma Swan’s closet. Until today, she’d never thought much about it. However, as she prepared for Robin’s funeral, rifling through her closet desperate to find something appropriate to wear, she recognized for the first time that her options were quite limited.  
Emma always thought that her wardrobe was a steady mix of her go-to skinny jeans and a variety of sweaters that matched her red leather jacket with a few dresses for when the occasion arrived, but maybe that had been in New York. Those had long since been left in her apartment, and the only other gowns she’d worn were those worthy of the storybook, and they were not hanging in her closet.  
The two dresses sat side-by-side in her closet, one light and one dark. While the black was really the only option for the funeral, she couldn’t help but run a hand over the light fabric of the other one, remembering the two occasions she’d worn it with nostalgia and sadness.  
Emma pulled the black one from the closet, but even as she tossed the black dress on the bed, she kept looking back at the soft pink dress. It represented a different time, a much happier one. Even the second time she’d worn it, at least he’d still been there, even though their date on the Jolly Roger had ended less-than-pleasantly.  
Dresses reminded her of Killian. Then again, what didn’t, anymore?  
For a moment, she thought of the first time she’d worn a dress with him. If she were technical, she supposed it was the black leather one in New York when she’d thought he was some sort of deranged man, albeit a handsome, charming one. However, the real first time would have been in the Enchanted Forest during their time travel adventure. She’d worn two dresses, the first that horrid wench dress that he and his past self had appreciated all too much, she thought with a laugh. Then, there’d been the princess dress, the bright red one she could still see on the pages of the storybook. Killian’s eyes had never left her, and the sweet compliments he’d paid to her throughout the night had made her blush, but more than that, they had made her feel more beautiful than she ever had before.  
Swallowing tears, Emma turned her attention back to the black dress on the bed. She stripped out of her jeans and sweater, toeing off her socks before she went in search of her black tights.  
As she sifted through her top dresser drawers, her thoughts wandered back to the pink dress in the closet. Her first date with Killian. The look in his eyes when she’d opened the door to her parents’ apartment and they’d laid eyes on each other. His attempts to make everything perfect at the restaurant. Then, their walk along the shore later on, when she’d gotten cold and he’d slipped his jacket over her shoulders, the darkness of the black leather a sharp contrast to the soft femininity of the dress.  
Then, there were the other memories. That dark day on the Jolly Roger. The stiffness in Killian’s voice, the sharpness in his tone. Her attempts to lighten the mood, sweetly flirting with him despite it all being an attempt to manipulate him. The darkness had tinted that day and so many days after.  
Retrieving the tights from the bottom of her drawer, Emma sat down on the edge of the bed so that she could put them on. As she did, more memories continued to flit through her mind. She chuckled sadly to herself as she thought of their fourth meeting in the alternate universe, when she’d worn a midnight blue dress that looked shredded and her hair had been a mass of tangled strands and landed flat against his chest, only to realize that the Killian Jones of the alternate universe had been a shadow of the real man, the one who emerged later on that day when he sacrificed himself to protect her and Henry.  
When he’d died that first time, she’d felt as though there was a gaping hole in her chest. The way she felt now…  
Emma shook her head and rose from the bed, rounding it to retrieve the black dress she’d pulled from the closet. She was already trying to push from her mind that this was the house that he’d chosen for them, the one where he’d intended for them to build their future. It was in everything she saw in the house, from the uncanny views of the ocean to the clean, wide expanse of the house. She couldn’t even bring herself to sleep in the luxurious master bedroom, for she knew that if he were here, they would be sharing it.  
Emma’s thoughts circled back around to dresses. She’d been wearing a dress when he died in Camelot, a lovely, light white one with draping sleeves and a cape, something that only a maiden in a fairytale land would find practical.  
Emma pulled the dress over her head and down, straightening it into place. It was plain and simple. She’d throw a jacket over her to shield her from the rain.  
Killian’s ring still hung from the chain around her neck. She touched it, perhaps hoping it would bring back some semblance of him. Her thoughts returned to Camelot, of the many beautiful moments they’d shared there despite the darkness being inside her. The lovely horse ride in the Middlemist meadow, the moment he’d given her this ring, when she’d found out he wanted to share a future with her. And who could forget the Camelot ball? For the first time, her mother had been able to help her prepare, adding a beautiful flower crown to her hair after helping her into one of the most beautiful gowns she’d ever worn, one fit for a wedding, with swooshing white material and intricate lace detailing. When she’d descended down that staircase beside her mother, Killian had watched her like she was the only woman in the world. Everyone wanted to be looked at that way.  
Brushing the tears from her face, Emma swallowed hard again, trying to stop their flow. Damn, what was it with dresses and Killian? It was making everything come back to her.  
Emma decided to forgo makeup; she was certain it wouldn’t even stay on if she was planning to attend Robin’s funeral.  
As she stared at herself in the mirror, she saw herself as she had never wanted to: vulnerable and distraught. She had returned from the Underworld days ago, and while the days left her little time to do anything other than figure out Hades’ next move, the nights had left her plenty alone, which meant too much time to think, to remember, to regret.  
Too often, the memories of their final good-bye played through her mind. Killian was a man who was controlled by his emotions, yet she had rarely seen him cry. As she’d risen above him in the elevator, the tears had stained his face, and she’d wanted so badly to jump out and run back into his arms, hold him a while longer, tell him she loved him again and again.  
He’d told her to move on, but how could she?  
There’d been men in her life before, some she loved even, but Killian was so different. They understood each other, shared common experiences that she never could have with someone else. It was why she’d spent so long running away from him; she knew he could see right through her. Slowly, though, he’d done as he promised, winning her heart without any tricks, and she’d fallen for him. Their love was an intense kind, one that she wasn’t even sure existed until Killian. Then, to discover that they were true love, confirmed…  
Living without him now just seemed empty. How did you go on without your true love?  
Emma had always been comfortable being alone. Right now, she was trying to convince herself that it would all be okay, that she just needed some time to process everything. Her parents had told her that she needed to learn how to grieve, and maybe they were right. In the past, all she’d ever done was try to keep moving. Then again, there also usually hadn’t been much time to mourn, not that she wanted to. People came and went in your life; that was just the way it was.  
This time was different, though. Killian Jones had done was no one else could. He’d loved her unconditionally. He’d broken down her walls, been able to see more than just the determined, independent savior. She’d slowly relented, doing things she rarely did like laughing and smiling. He knew the parts of her that she hated; she’d let him in. For the first time in a long time, she’d allowed herself to be an open book to someone else.  
For a fleeting moment, Emma had been able to imagine a future with him, which was more than she could say about Neal or even Walsh, whom she’d almost been engaged to. She’d envisioned them living in this house, getting into a routine, being committed to one another, sharing their lives. Now, it was only what could have been…  
Maybe she should stop by Killian’s grave before she went to the funeral. So far, she just hadn’t been able to; it would make him being gone all too real. Seeing his name carved on a headstone not existing in the Underworld would force her to face the fact that he wasn’t coming back this time. There was no reincarnating him or saving him. He would be moving on soon, if he did as he promised her. Despite selfishly wanting him back, she also wanted him to be happy. If he got the chance to be with Liam, maybe he could be.  
Emma whipped around, that pink dress catching her eye once more. She shook her head and slipped into a pair of black boots, then left the room began her sad descent down the stairs. She had to get going.  
Emma landed at the foot of the steps with a thump like a small child. She pulled the black coat she wanted from the coat rack, slipping into it. That was when she noticed the flask of rum sitting on the table. Emma tried but failed to suppress the tears. Slowly, she reached for it, not surprised that it was still half full. She laughed through her tears; Killian’s flask never seemed to be empty.  
She’d take it to him, or at least to his grave. He would have liked that.  
Later on, Emma took the rum and the dress in the closet as a sign that Killian would never leave her when he appeared at the cemetery. He’d made it back to her. She’d practically crashed into him with kisses and hugs, just like she’d wanted to so badly when she’d left him in the Underworld, only this time filled with happiness instead of sadness. And she was wearing a dress again, another memory, another reminder that Killian Jones and Emma Swan would let nothing separate them, not life or death.


End file.
